Thursday, July 2, 2020

Poetry & Hip-Hop


Sometimes I think writing poetry is taking the easy way out.  I think most people will agree that it is  easier than writing novels or non-fiction.   The poet doesn’t need to put forth a story line.  The meaning of a poem is supposed to come out through images and a creative and often ironic use of words.   Many of the poems I read are translated, perhaps that’s what gives me the feeling sometimes that a poem which has provoked my interest, at some point, will seem to fall off a cliff.

 But yes, poems are fun, fun to write even if the subject is tragic, wherein the poem can be said to be ‘redemptive’ or ‘healing’ or both.  I suppose a reader of poetry might find comfort in a poem but really any healing or redemption would accrue only to the person writing the poem. 
I’ve listened to some really good poetry and some really bad poetry in the genre called ‘hip-hop.’ I can only guess how others feel about it but my same judgement would apply to the kind of poetry people think of when someone says ‘poetry.’ 

There’s a lot of uninteresting published poetry out there in what we   call ‘free verse.’  In my mind, all poetry is on the same level, whether it comes to you from a gifted and creative hood rat or trailer park citizen or from academia.    Many people may disagree, of course, and perhaps they would be right.  I’m a flawed individual, open to improvement.  Perhaps someone   show me where I’m wrong in my estimation. 

 Hip-hop is often poetic, making use of the same conventions as high-brow poetry and sometimes to better effect.  It has a large audience. Huge numbers of people get meaning from it.       Highbrow poetry can mean something too but no one seems to notice when it doesn’t and no one dares criticize it: 


Was, Then Wasn’t
when a star fell
ruining my sky and leaving nothing
except a stray angel
to cancel the razor blades
the thin ice between my skin and the dark
melting away
brain pounding like a runaway train
following broken conversations
written upon the bricks of old walls
my heart about to open again or fall
once again to the rocks below
when suddenly awakened, breaking free
I clawed my way out of there
leaving that damned place forever
that dark hell
that place that was, and then wasn’t



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